


Memories

by Frigid



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frigid/pseuds/Frigid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble set after ME3. Koris' memories of his crew dying on Rannoch haunt him, but Gerrel is always there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

_The metal of the hull splits and tears as the missile hits the ship. The glass of the bridge windows shatters, shards flying towards his crew. His hands rise, blue flickering around them as he tries to summon a shield but it’s too late. He watches as his pilot’s neck is torn by the glass, the shard tinted red by the blood. The room is quiet, deathly silent as he staggers to the ship’s comm link. His chest hurts from where he was thrown against the wall._

_Around him, he can see what remains of his crew flee the bridge. He pulls the pilot’s corpse aside, trying to get to the controls. A hand grabs his arm, tugging, pulling him away. He pushes away, he’s so close to the controls, he can save his ship-_

_Rula pulls again, and he turns this time, trying to protest. He can’t fight off Rula, the other quarian is stronger than him, he’s dragged towards the exit, towards the escape pods. She pushes him in, ties him down to the seats. He can hear someone shouting. Begging. It’s him. He’s the one screaming._

_He feels himself being shoved into the seat as the escape pod blasts off, directly towards Rannoch. From the window he can see his ship as it tilts towards the surface, straight into the path of the antiship gun._

_He doesn’t remember the rest of the escape pod’s journey to the surface. He only remembers the impact of it hitting the ground, sharp pains lancing through his chest again. He pulls off his harness, his crew is spread around, they need him. The geth are there, guns raised and firing. He sees his crew fall, a rocket heading towards his own escape pod. Once more his hands raise, the shield forming and taking the hit. It ripples, disappearing under the impact. He feels it, staggering to the ground. He hears his name called, but he doesn’t recognise the voice. It calls louder, more insistent. His shoulders are grabbed, he doesn’t remember this, it’s not part of-_

“Koris!” He stiffens and shoves Gerrel off of him. Blinking, his chest heaves as he takes his surroundings in. Sheets. Window. Rannoch’s landscape beyond, hidden in darkness as the sun sets. Koris runs his hand over his head, trying to mask his shaking. He won’t cry again. He refuses to.

A hand gently runs up over his arm, resting on his shoulder. Koris is pulled forward, and he doesn’t resist. He needs Gerrel.

“When are you going to start your appointments again?” Gerrel’s voice is soft, arms circling around Koris. He scowls. He doesn’t want to go back again. Gerrel’s hand squeezes his shoulder as the other quarian sighs.

“Zaal… you need to stop acting like everything’s alright. You don’t have to pretend that you're this invincible man.” Koris raises his head.

“I-I know, I just.” His voice is shaky. He hopes he doesn’t throw up. “I keep seeing it again. My pilot. Kono. He was only 25 years old, Han.” He’s starting to ramble again, but it grounds him. It keeps him here.

“And then Rula was pulling me away from the controls. She was in the escape pod with me. She heard me screaming. I saw her when we hit the ground. She was one of the first to die when we got out. I didn’t even get to see Dorn. I don’t know which pod he was in.” His voice cracks. They’d found Dorn’s body a few days after Shepard had made peace.

Gerrel’s arms tighten and he feels himself being rocked back and forth, Gerrel’s hands rubbing his back. The tears fall and he can’t stop them. Koris has lost count of the amount of times they’ve sat like this, curled up in the night when his memories take control. Gerrel grounds him. He wouldn’t have thought that this would be possible, but it did. He exhales slowly, moving to sit closer to Gerrel, resting his head on Gerrel’s shoulder. The sun has almost completely set now, its last rays illuminating the room in red light. They watch it dip below the horizon, breathing in time. They’ve been together long enough that they don’t need words now.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on the WriteWorld tumblr. "When are you going to stop pretending that everything's fine?"


End file.
